Brothers In Arms
by Old English Game
Summary: Colonel Hogan! He would know. They were involved in… well, Schultz called it "monkey business". Kommandant Klink called it "shenanigans", "tomfoolery", "fishy goings-on", or any like phrase he'd learned from the prisoners. Oskar called it "resistance work" and "the impossible". Because of course it's not a coincidence that Karl Langenscheidt looks exactly like Oskar Danzig.
1. Chapter 1

**Yello!**

**This is based off of the Season 6 episode "That's No Lady, That's My Spy" wherein Jon Cedar (who plays Karl Langenscheidt in other episodes) is Oskar Danzig. I liked the idea that other authors on here had of them being the same person, but I chose this instead. I hope y'all like it!**

**-Me**

**"**Karl!" Corporal Mittendorfer was suddenly at Langenscheidt's elbow, grinning in the sickly way that he did when he was showing off his girly photos, "Karl, you'll never believe it!"

"What, Mittendorfer?" Langenscheidt sighed. It should have been enough of a clue for Mittendorfer to back off the first-name basis, but, alas, it was not.

"You didn't hear? They shot Danzig!"

Karl froze, "No."

Luckily, Mittendorfer missed the underlying fear in the word, and went on, "_Ja! _Last night! The Gestapo shot him as he was driving away from an underground drop off. I hear they got another one, too!"

Langenscheidt caught himself just in time to hide his expression and asked, somewhat evenly, "Danzig's - Danzig's dead?"

Mittendorfer shrugged, "I dunno. I hope he is, though, my picture'll be worth millions! Well, not millions, but alot…" He talked some more. He talked a lot, and he almost reminded Langenscheidt of the Allies' Carter, only Carter was a good man who didn't have pictures of scantily-clad men dressed as women on his wall, and didn't drop bombshells* on his fellow soldiers about their resistance leader brothers being wounded and possibly murdered.

Langenscheidt stayed and nodded along just long enough so that Mittendorfer wouldn't be suspicious when he excused himself, and made a beeline for - well, he wasn't sure where yet. Just away from _that _man.

He had almost gotten all the way to the back of the camp when he suddenly crashed smack into a fat man wearing a uniform. This should have been identity enough, but as it was it took him a moment to register the fact, come to attention, and smartly salute, "Sergeant Schultz! Sorry, Sergeant. I did not mean to."

"_Ja, _Karl, it is fine," Schultz said, "Today is a good day! Did you hear?"

"Oskar -," _Wait! "_Danzig was shot," Langenscheidt added hastily, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Schultz sighed, "Everyone knows now! Even Colonel Hogan and his men…" He whined, "I wish there was _someone _I could surprise."

Langenscheidt hadn't really heard the last part. Colonel Hogan! He would know. They were involved in… well, Schultz called it "monkey business". Kommandant Klink called it "shenanigans", "tomfoolery", "fishy goings-on", or any like phrase he'd learned from the prisoners. Oskar called it "resistance work" and "the impossible". They would know.

Schultz had moved on, grumbling something or other, on his search for somebody who might not have heard the news yet.

Langenscheidt made his way towards the prisoners' barracks, and, after a furtive glance about to make sure he wasn't seen, knocked lightly on the door.

All of the murmur inside came to an abrupt halt, and he couldn't quite discern the quick, soft words that flew for a moment before the door was opened.

The American Carter stood there, and all of the faces Langenscheidt could see stared at him with shock.

"Hi," He said finally, "May I - come in?"

"You knocked," Carter said finally, stepping aside for Langenscheidt to enter.

Langenscheidt nodded.

Colonel Hogan came out of his quarters, then, looking around, "Somebody knocked!" He exclaimed, and then his eyes landed on Langenscheidt, "You knocked!" He repeated.

"Nobody _ever _knocks," Carter said emphatically.

The Frenchman - Langenscheidt could never remember his name - standing by the stove nodded, eyeing Langenscheidt with an odd combination of surprise, animosity, and respect.

"I, um, hoped to speak with you," Langenscheidt told Colonel Hogan, "I thought that if anyone knew for sure about Oskar Danzig, it would be you," He felt himself blushing, "Because of your, uh, 'monkey business'."

His stance went from a casual slouch to defensive and suspicious. He crossed his arms across his chest and squared his shoulders, "What about Oskar Danzig?" He asked tersely.

"I - I need to know if he's alive," Langenscheidt said, annoyed at how frightened his voice suddenly was. The man was _terrifying, _"I - it's very important. And I wouldn't tell anyone, I promise, I just -," He gasped when he realized he was starting to panic, and stolidly shut his mouth and looked at Colonel Hogan pleadingly.

The Colonel stared at him, dumbfounded, for a minute _\- bet that doesn't happen often - _and then said, "Why do you need to know?"

Langenscheidt gawked at that. He couldn't tell Colonel Hogan why. He couldn't! Oskar's cover would be blown. Half the people in the underground didn't even know his real name. Colonel Hogan wasn't supposed to. "I - he's a friend," He said finally, "_Bitte, _Colonel Hogan, you cannot tell anyone!" He looked around at the others, "Anyone. It would be bad, you know," He wanted to keep going, but thankfully his lack of English saved him from further embarrassment.

"Langenscheidt," He looked back up at Colonel Hogan, who watched him for a long, terrifying minute, discerning, and then said, "Danzig's alive. We can't tell you anymore than that."

Karl breathed a sigh of relief, "_Danke, _Colonel Hogan. Very much," He smiled weakly, "_Danke."_

The Colonel watched him with a raised eyebrow, "You're close?"

"_Ach! _Don't tell anyone. Please!"

"Relax, Langenscheidt, as long as you keep your mouth shut too," Hogan gently pushed Langenscheidt back out the door, "Best of luck to you."

"_Ja!_ You too,"Langenscheidt stammered, "_Danke," _Then he realized that was the third time he'd said that and turned bright red again, and mumbled, "_Auf wiedersehen,"_ And skittered out.

*no pun intended


	2. Chapter 2

**"****Hey, Schultz!" Colonel Hogan sauntered up to the guard, and leaned up against him, propping an arm up on his shoulder, "How's your day been?"**

Schultz sighed dejectedly, "Colonel Hogan, I think _everyone _knew about Danzig being shot before I did. I was so excited to see the expression on Corporal Mittendorfer's face when I told him that his pin-up girl had been shot!"

Hogan could picture that, for sure, "I'm sorry, Schultz, that must be terrible."

"_Ja, _it is," Schultz nodded, "Colonel Hogan, even Corporal Langenscheidt knew - and that boy hardly speaks to anybody, except for Mittendorfer. And I don't think he likes to talk to Mittendorfer," At this he chuckled a little.

Hogan nodded sagely. Mittendorfer _was _a weird fellow, even for a German. Even for _anybody._ But there was the opening he needed, "Hey, speaking of Corporal Langenscheidt, I saw him just earlier."

Schultz snorted, "Of course you did, Colonel. It's a small prison, isn't it?"

Hogan rolled his eyes, "That's not what I mean. He looked horrible. Battle fatigue, you know."

"Langenscheidt has never fired his gun outside of training," Schultz laughed again, "If anything, he's bored."

"No, Schultz, I'm serious! There's been studies. The different aspects of a prison camp can be just as strenuous as battle. And you know what they said? They said that because battle fatigue off of the field works as a silent killer, its victims can actually suffer worse than soldiers on the front! Haven't you heard any of this?"

Schultz shook his head, "No. Who did the studies?"

"Theodore Von Schoneveld," Hogan rattled off the first first-name last-name combination he could come up with, "A famous scientist. Personally commended by the führer."

"Oh! The führer," Schultz repeated with great reverence, "You think Langenscheidt is going crazy?" He frowned at Hogan.

Hogan shook his head, "Not yet, but - he could snap any day, you know. The endless days of constant stress… it's got to be awful to march the same twenty feet of ground for twelve hours, you know?" He sighed contemplatively.

"He should go on leave," Schultz said after a moment's speculation.

Hogan perked immediately, "Hey, that's a great idea!"

Puffing up like a peacock, Schultz stated, "I do, on occasion, come up with a few."

"That's why you're German, Schultz. Superior minds," Hogan patted his shoulder, "You'll speak to Klink right away about a furlough?"

"Naturally. Right now, in fact! Farewell, Colonel Hogan," With great grandeur, Schultz bade Hogan _Auf Wiedersehen _and strode across the compound towards the Kommandantur.

"A weekend pass?" Langenscheidt repeated, gawking at the paper Kommandant Klink held out to him. Then he took it, not wanting to lose the chance.

"Yes, Corporal, go ahead," Klink pinned him with one of those unpleasant grins that reminded Langenscheidt of his senile Aunt Hildebrand trying to get him to talk about how school was going and had he met a pretty girl and would he like some painfully watery, grainy tea? "I know how strenuous the life of a prison guard can be. All day, walking back and forth along the same tract of land? I couldn't imagine."

Langenscheidt caught himself staring at the Kommandant with his jaw hanging slack, and quickly straightened. _Whatever the man says - I'm not arguing with a weekend pass!_ "_Jawohl, _Herr Kommandant. Thank you very much."

"Of course, boy, take care of yourself!" Klink beamed at him again, "Dismissed, Karl."

Karl?!

Langenscheidt got out of there as fast as he could.

It wasn't until he got out into the compound that it hit him. He hadn't had a pass since Christmas!

"Hey, Karl!" Oh, Mittendorfer. And he would be rid of him for a whole two days! "What'd the Kommandant want you for? It was good, wasn't it, I can tell 'cuz' you're grinning like an idiot."

Langenscheidt clutched the pass tighter, "I… got a weekend pass."

"You did?! No way!" Mittendorfer stared at the slip of paper, "How'd you manage that?"

"I don't know, really," Langenscheidt said, "But it starts at at noon, so I'm going to get my stuff together. _Wiedersehen,"_ And he strode away from Mittendorfer.

Halfway to his barracks, he heard a chatter from the prisoners' side of camp, and glanced over. Outside of Barracks 2, Colonel Hogan and his posse were laughing about something or other.

As if feeling his eyes on him, the Colonel looked up, met Langenscheidt's eyes, and smiled.

Langenscheidt stopped dead in his tracks, "Oh."

"What is it, Karl?" Mittendorfer had followed him.

Langenscheidt quickly shook his head, "Nothing! Nothing. Just lost my train of thought," He hurried onward.

It wouldn't take long to pack his small duffle of things, but he drew it out as long as he could. He still had three hours to kill before he could leave at noon.

Unfortunately, though, it still only took about a half-hour to get his things together, when he dragged his feet and carefully organized and re-organized his underclothes and deodorant and toothbrush and whatnot.

So he found himself talking to Corporal Mittendorfer, who had, apparently, completely forgotten that he was supposed to be on duty. And when Langenscheidt reminded him, he would realize, start towards the door, and then spin around and come up with a new conversation topic.

Langenscheidt did not like Corporal Mittendorfer. He pondered this as the other man rambled on. He wasn't a _bad _person. He wasn't very good either. He was weird. He found great pleasure in men dressed as women, and called everyone of equal or lower rank by their first name, and always got too close when he was holding a conversation, and was too interested in everyone's personal business.

"- and anyways, then she had to get it removed. And the hospital still charged her!"

And he loved to talk about anyone's and everyone's medical health.

Langenscheidt couldn't be more excited for noon to come.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi. It's me again. Told you I'd get this thing up fast! And you know I have a 25-page final draft for a story I don't even have a rough draft for due in 2 days? Yup. Also, sorry the first line of Chapter 2 is bolded. That wasn't supposed to happen but I'm going to pretend I did it on purpose so I don't have to go back and fix it.**

**Enjoy!**

**-Me**

Langenscheidt let himself in the back door of the old cabin, quietly, peering inside first to make sure one of Oskar's underground friends wasn't on the other side of the door waiting to shoot the intruder dead. But the small mudroom was empty, and he took off his boots - Pippa would have his hide otherwise, wounded husband or not - and stepped quietly into the kitchen, rapping softly on the doorframe, "Pippa? Oskar?"

A soft gasp from the someplace in the house - the echo in the old place was awful - and then someone said, "You stay here, wait for the reply."

Then a man came from the door to the cellar, hand behind his back, eyeing Karl suspiciously until he seemed to recognize him, "Oh, you must be Oskar's brother?" He asked, "You look alike."

"_Ja, _Karl."

"I am Stefan."

"Good to meet you," Karl slipped off his coat and glanced around the room. Small, cramped, decorated to the best of Pippa's ability with what she had, which wasn't more than a few potted plants and a handful of family pictures, "I got a furlough. Is he bad?"

The man shrugged sadly, "We are waiting for word from another underground cell, to bring penicillin. If we can't get it soon enough…" He left the sentence hanging.

Karl nodded, "You look tired, you rest and I'll watch things"," He said.

He sighed, "I look that bad?" A solemn nod, "All right. Thanks very much. I'll keep an ear open, though, for patrols," This promise was stifled by a yawn, though so Karl doubted it would happen. Thankfully, from what he'd heard, the Gestapo had no idea where Oskar Danzig might be and certainly didn't think he was the same as Oskar Langenscheidt, the crippled factory worker with every condition from asthma to Raynaud's and back again.

"Pippa?" He descended the stairs into the cellar, and although the stairway was cold, he was relieved to see that the cellar itself was warmed by a small furnace set back in the corner of the small room, diagonal from the bed that Oskar lay on, watched carefully by Pippa, who leapt up from her chair and instinctively pulled her fist back, as if such a slight woman could do any good against an assailant.

But immediately upon recognizing him, her shoulders dropped, "Oh, Karl," She sighed, relieved, and offered him a weak smile.

Karl nodded, "Sit down, Pippa, let me see," He stepped forward.

She didn't sit down, "Karl, I'm - I'm glad you came. I was terrified - I'm still terrified - Karl, it's bad," Her voice died to a whisper, "Papa Bear doesn't know if they can get the penicillin to us."

"They'll get it," Karl had his suspicions about this Papa Bear, and if his suspicions were correct, he would come through, "Sit down, you look awful."

"Will they, though?" Pippa sat, eyes watching Oskar's face wide with worry, "It doesn't matter how good of a spy you are if you get caught," She bit her lip, glancing from one man to the other.

"I know, but good spies rarely get caught," Karl countered, "Look, Pippa, you don't gain anything by worrying. Have you eaten? You should eat."

She shook her head tiredly, "I can't eat."

"Tea, then?"

She glanced at him and admitted, "It sounds nice."

Karl stood, "I'll get you some, then. You like Earl Gray?"

"_Ja -_ in the cupboard above the sink," She smiled weakly at him, and Karl went back upstairs.

Glancing into the living room, he found Stefan sitting in a chair by the front door, pistol dangling from his hand, fast asleep.

Karl found the tea, and set the teapot of water on the stove, and added another log to the fire - they always burned it low, because they couldn't make too much smoke or light that would give away their location. Then he gave himself a quick tour of the house, in case the Gestapo did come in to "search", and discovered their operation. He could see that Oskar had positioned things strategically, there was an end table near both doors to block the doors, the couch was against a windowless wall, and the two windows in the room were flanked by bookcases that Karl guessed were to push in front of them. Pippa's decorations were well-chosen, too. A heavy bust of Beethoven fit neatly in Karl's hand, and the sword held by a small pirate gnome slid out of its hands and turned into an impressive stiletto.

Then he went back into the cellar, making note of the large hutch that looked to be placed to be quickly shoved in front of the cellar door.

Pippa was sitting on the edge of the bed, resoaking the cloth that she gently washed the sheen of sweat off of Oskar's face with before setting it back over his forehead.

"He's burning up?" Karl asked softly, seating himself on the chair.

She nodded, "Stefan thinks it may be getting infected," She glanced at the radio, "I wish Papa Bear would get here soon…"

"He'll be okay, Pippa, he really will," Karl insisted, "You're thinking too much and dreaming up disasters."

"It's hard not too," She said.

"You've got to think about something else. Look, I haven't seen you since Christmas; what's been going on? Just talk. About anything," Karl prompted.

Pippa smiled half-heartedly, "I've gotten a job in town. Sorting mail; it pays pretty well," She smiled down at Oskar, "Better than what he gets stealing information from the Gestapo and smuggling the Jews and Poles to the English Channel."

"How is that going?" Karl asked, "I've heard it's gotten worse, the oppression."

Her face fell again, "There are camps," She murmured, "Oskar's seen them, in Poland and Eastern Germany. He won't tell me what goes on," A sad smile, "And I told him that if he didn't tell me, my imagination would be all over the place, thinking up the worst possible scenarios. And he didn't say anything for a while," She sighed, "And then he said "Pippi, whatever you can think up, it's worse. And we have to get those people out of there.""

"How many have you gotten out so far?" Karl asked, and immediately regretted it. He was supposed to be keeping on the lighter subjects!

"Forty-three, is all," She said, "We unhooked the last cattle car in a train and snuck the people to a half-dozen different hiding places all over the countryside. The last one of them just arrived in England a week ago."

"Don't think like that," Karl sighed, "You saved forty-three lives."

Pippa smiled at him, "_Danke, _Karl," Then she lifted her head, "I hear the teapot. I'll go get it,"

"Try to sleep, if you can," Karl said, "I'll take care of him."

She nodded, "I'll try." And, lingering a moment with her fingers on Oskar's cheek, she left the room.

As soon as the door had shut behind her, the confidence drained from Karl's shoulders and he sank back into the chair, "Oskar, you _can't _die," He insisted, "You just _can't."_ Thinking back, he didn't have more than a handful of childhood memories that _didn't _involve he and Oskar, together, from chasing an annoyed, pompous second-grader around on chubby toddler legs, to climbing up as high as they possibly could into the trees, and throwing down pinecones and balls of leaves and yes, sticks too, because they were stupid boys. And then Oskar's first date, and Karl again feeling his four years younger, and being bored to death without a friend when he went off to Berlin on "business for the bank". He was lucky Mama had died before his fame as a female impersonator reached Dresden. And then he came home, when Karl was called up, feeling godawful because he was too late to teach Karl the tricks for pretending to have all sorts of miserable conditions to keep him out of the army.

"Karl?" A hoarse whisper, "Is that you?"

Karl sat up, "Oskar!" He moved closer, "_Ja, _it's me. Are you feeling any better?"

"Not particularly," He muttered, "You got water?"

Karl looked around, "I think so - here," He reached for the glass on the small table, "Here," As Oskar sat up and reached for the glass, he carefully sat behind him and propped him up, "Slow, don't choke."

"I'm not that stupid, Karl," Oskar sighed after he'd finished, "Thanks."

"How long's it been, exactly? I heard the rumor secondhand."

He frowned, easing back into the pillow with a pained wince, "What's today?"

"Twenty-seventh. Around five."

He nodded, just barely, "Two days, almost. Pippi's trying to radio for penicillin," His eyes drifted shut, "Sorry. Talking's hard."

"It's fine." Karl said, but couldn't help, "I thought penicillin was for infections? And that usually takes a while longer to set in, right?"

"Yeah," Oskar murmured, "And pain. And - everything. Bullet hit everywhere, and then I was running… 'm all torn up," His voice faded, "I can't - I need that."

"Shush," Karl said, "Sorry I asked. Don't talk."

"I need that, Karl," He whispered, "Take care of Pippa?"

"Always," Karl promised, "But don't try and test that, hmm?"

He smiled, a little.

**Sorry this chapter's longer than the others. I had too much** fun.


	4. Chapter 4

Someone knocked on the door.

Karl, who had traded places with Stefan every four or five hours, sat up straight, his hand tightening around the pistol.

Again, they knocked. The pattern.

Karl strode towards the door and opened it a crack, peering out into the night, "Ja?"

"Is this the home of the man who saw my Daschund?" The old woman asked, in a deep, cracked voice.

He opened the door the rest of the way, "Ja! Ja, um - I mean - no, but I saw a Schnauzer. Come in," He stepped aside to let the lady in and glanced outside furtively before shutting the door and sliding the locks into place, "It was a few days ago, though." You're late.

"Glad to see you," The voice deepened a shade and the man reached up to pull off the wig, "Boy, that thing itches. Here you go -," He held out his purse.

Karl ducked his head as Newkirk followed him towards the attic. He's going to recognize me, he's going to recognize me, our whole cover will be blown, Oskar will be in that much more danger…

"Danke," He murmured, ascending the stairs, "Pippa?"

"Shush!" Stefan frowned tightly at the two of them and motioned towards the woman curled up on the end of the bed, "The penicillin?" He asked, reaching towards the bag that Karl held out. He glanced with a raised brow at Karl's ducked head, "Why don't you go find something of Danzig's to disguise the fellow, hmm?" He asked.

Karl nodded and darted down the stairs. He went for the bedroom, and the box slid underneath the dresser. It was full of all of Oskar's fake mustaches and beards and whatnot, and the clothes were simply hidden by being in the closet along with the rest of them. If the Gestapo ever searched, they would only find a man with a wide variety of odd-fitting clothes.

He picked out an old-man getup, simply because all of the men Newkirk's age were all drafted - which was really why Newkirk was here, in the first place, when he thought of it. He tossed a few things in the pockets, so it didn't look odd that he didn't have anything.

He set the getup - pants, a dark overcoat, and a whole muff of facial hair - on the kitchen table, where it would be easily visible when they came back downstairs. As much as he wanted to be up in the attic, he knew Oskar would skin him alive if he risked revealing his identity, so he picked up his rifle and pulled the chair up to a window in the living room. There wasn't much visible, but he felt like he was doing something.

Several minutes later, Newkirk came back downstairs.

"There's a disguise on the table for you," Karl murmured, keeping his eyes trained outside, "You can change in the bathroom just there," He pointed.

Thankfully, Newkirk seemed to know as much as he did the need for secrecy, "Thanks, mate. Err - Danke."

"Bitte. And thank you, too, Englander. Give Papa Bear our best."

"How'd you know I was an Englander?" He exclaimed indignantly.

Well, for one thing, he was The Englander. Out of all the hundred something Englishmen in camp, Newkirk was The Englander, "Your accent is horrible," Karl said.

"Oh. Okay." He left.

A few minutes later, he reappeared, "I look okay?"

Karl glanced over, "Just fine. Grab the ear horn in the top drawer there -," He pointed again, "It works surprisingly well," He'd been told.

"Right. Thanks, mate. Take care."

"You too." And he'd left.

Karl sighed with relief. That could have been bad.

Standing, and watching Newkirk disappear into the woods, he walked back into the attic.

Pippa was still asleep, and Stefan was sitting on the chair by the bed, a small smile on his face as he held the back of his hand to Oskar's forehead,

"It works fast," He said, The fever's already going down. He should be fine, before long."

Thank the Lord, "Oh, das is gut," Karl grinned shakily, "Good."..

Stefan nodded, "Papa Bear's man - I thought you looked like you were trying not to be recognized?"

Karl nodded, "He is - well, I shouldn't tell you. But yes. And thanks for noticing."

"I didn't live this long without learning to notice," Stefan grinned, "Now, you sit with your brother a bit. I'll watch the door."

"You mean I'll sit up here and finally get some rest, and you'll sit down there and finally get some rest," Karl joked, and Stefan shrugged guiltily.

"So it goes," He went back downstairs.

Karl sighed, and sank into the chair Stefan had just vacated, "Oskar?" He murmured, "We're okay now."

For now, they were safe. And if it was only now and never again, then still they were safe. Karl shifted a bit in the uncomfortable chair, and finally let himself fall asleep.

"Langenscheidt! You are twenty minutes late!"

"Sorry, Herr Kommandant," Langenscheidt stood so stiff and ramrod straight he was losing feeling in his feet, as Klink continued to berate him. He hadn't meant to be late. He hadn't meant to end up talking to Cecilia Dieter, the most beautiful, sweet, gentle… he could go on. And he did, in his head.

"These enlisted men! You give them any kind of privilege - any kind! And they fling it back in your faces! The gall! You have a duty to the Fatherland, and when you are granted a reprieve from your work, that duty never leaves! You should have been back here at exactly twelve o'clock."

In all, Klink went on for almost a full half-hour before finally giving Langenscheidt three extra shifts and dismissing him.

He almost ran smack into Colonel Hogan on the way out, "Sorry! Sorry," He stammered.

"It's fine, Langenscheidt," Hogan brushed past.

Langenscheidt froze. Had he winked? Did he know?

"Langenscheidt, shut that door unless you want to walk a post in Leningrad!"

Langenscheidt startled out if his musings and shut the door. Well, as the Americans, said, it was back to the grind.

End.

**I hope you all liked it. I haven't really written anything to this sort yet (that doesn't make sense, I know, but you know?) so it was exciting.**

****Most sincerely,****

******-Me******


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